


make the moments seem like years

by coupe_de_foudre



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Birthday, Established Relationship, M/M, Pre-Canon, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, no beta we die like men, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23128561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: “That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”Blake laughed. “No,” he starts, holding a finger up between them, “you already said that about the fish one.”
Relationships: Tom Blake/William Schofield
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	make the moments seem like years

**Author's Note:**

> What's up, it's George MacKay's birthday today (yay, happy birthday!) so I'm now claiming this as Schofield's birthday too. Don't ask what happened here, I've given up planning my fics and now I just read the prompt and write whatever comes to mind xD
> 
> This prompt was sent over on [Tumblr](https://a-beautiful-struggle-of-life.tumblr.com/post/611656486614073344/45-otp-prompts)! Hopefully you enjoy where I went with it?

Schofield sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb. “No, Tom, I didn’t hear about the Italian Chef who died.”

Blake, undeterred by Schofield’s complete lack of interest, flops down into the space against the tree beside the resting soldier. He idly picks at a handful of grass. “Shame,” the smile is audible in his voice, “He pasta-way.”

There’s a moment of silence.

And then Schofield snaps his eyes open, straightening to glare down at Blake with as best or an unamused expression that he can muster up (ignoring the twitch at the corners of his mouth). “That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.”

Blake laughed, the sound bringing a familiar warmth to Schofield's chest. “No,” he starts, holding a finger up between them, “you already said that about the fish one.”

Schofield grumbled, settling back against the tree – although not before shuffling a couple inches closer to Blake so that their sides were pressed flush together. “Yeah, well...” he begins to argue, but then remembers just how bad that fish joke had been, “Yeah, alright. Still an awful joke, though.”

Blake shrugged next to him, “Never said I knew any good ones.” 

He has a point there.

“Anyway,” Blake says, sitting up now and pulling something out from behind him. Schofield didn’t even realise he'd brought anything along with him; he’d been ‘resting his eyes’ before Blake had found where he was (not that it was hard since they always sat by this tree). “I got you something.”

Schofield frowned, putting his hands up to show that he didn’t want to take whatever it was. “No, I said I didn't want-” 

“Shut up and just take it.”

“Tom-”

“ _Will_.” Blake cuts Schofield off, a playful smile etching onto his face as he finally pulls the gift out for Schofield to see. Any guilt for Blake getting him a present is immediately forgotten when Schofield sees it, a bubble of laughter leaving his throat before he can catch it. Blake looks pleased. “Happy birthday, Will.”

Schofield subconsciously pulls his lip between his teeth, smile threatening to split his face in two as he gently takes the cupcake from Blake’s hands. It’s nothing fancy, but the buttercream is swirled neatly on top and it suddenly reminds him of the treats his mother would make for his sister and him. Dipping a finger into the red cream, Schofield tastes it and all but moans his appreciation. 

“Calm down, soldier.” Blake teases, “Save some of those sounds for tonight.” 

Schofield chokes, staring wide eyed at the younger man who simply sends a wink his way – which Schofield is sure Blake means to be seductive but really it just makes him look like he has something in his eye. With a smirk, quickly recovering from his initial shock at Blake’s words, he scoops another blob of buttercream onto his fingertip. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“You can hold me to whatever you want.” Blake chuckles, and Schofield shakes his head with a smile.

“I’m also not going to bother asking where you got this cupcake because I’m almost certain it’s not included in the rations.”

Shooting Blake a knowing look, he’s not surprised when Blake flushes red and holds his hands up in a defensive gesture. “Hey, it’s a very legal cupcake.”

“Mhmm,” Schofield waits until Blake is casting his eyes around the field in front of them before pouncing, pinning the younger man beneath him and smearing buttercream across his face.

Blake protests – loudly. “Get off me you big oaf!” he's laughing, though. Schofield watches, transfixed, as a pink tongue darts out and licks at the cream within reach. “Fuck, that _is_ good.”

Unable to resist any longer, Schofield suddenly dips his head down – hands pressing against Blake's wrists, which are held into the grass above his head – and licks at a stripe of cream from the younger man’s jaw to his lower lip. Moaning against Blake's skin, he smirks when Blake tilts his head back to give Schofield more access. 

Capturing Blake’s lips in a sugar-sweet kiss, tongue slipping past already parted lips and melting into the body underneath his, Schofield feels a sense of pure bliss. Blake doesn’t hesitate to kiss him back, sucking Schofield’s tongue in a way he knows drives him mad. 

When they pull apart for air, Schofield makes sure not to put much distance between them. Resting his forehead on Blake's, ignoring the gross stickiness still smothered across Blake's face, he heaves out a contented sigh. Blake laughs, light and carefree. 

“Thank you.” Schofield says, eyes closed as his nose bumps against Blake's. He can feel Blake's breath, a ghost over his lips, a promise of more. 

“Sure did change your-” Blake starts to say, but before he can finish his sentence Schofield shuts up him by leaning down and gently pressing his lips to Blake's. That was all it was for a couple of seconds, minutes, hours (Schofield’s hardly counting time right now) just a soft press of lips and Schofield’s fingers holding the underside of Blake's jaw.

  
When Blake hums against his lips, Schofield responds by deepening the kiss – something which Blake isn’t opposed to and wastes no time in matching his movements. It’s hardly the first time they’ve done this, and it won’t be the last, so it all feels like a well choreographed dance; a languid move of lips, tongues sliding together, noses pressed almost uncomfortably close but familiar. Combined with the addictive taste of cupcake that lingers between them. It’s perfect. 

They don’t need to speak to understand what each other is trying to say in this moment, either. Which Schofield appreciates because he's certainly not the best with words.

But the desperate cling on his shoulders, how Blake has hooked his ankles around Schofield’s waist to keep him close, along with the gentle way that Schofield is now cupping Blake's face between his hands...it speaks more meaning than any words could ever hope to achieve.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading guys! Also tysm to everyone who left kudos and comments on my latest fics, y'all are the best <3


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